Those Who Wait
by firefly81
Summary: After years of watching and waiting (and plans gone wrong), he would finally get his witch.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Thanks to erbkaiser for looking this over for me.

Written for Round 4 of the Quidditch League FanFiction Competition. Go Wanderers!

* * *

Bloody Potter.

Why was it always that particular wizard that completely messed things up for him? It was a good thing the shadows hid him from view or else the whole Ministry would be able to see the look of intense rage that currently graced his face. He thought for sure that this plan, _this one_ , would be the one that helped him accomplish his goal. He paid careful attention to the Weasel's habits – which was pathetically easy as he was so predictable – and found that he always broke for tea at 2 p.m. on the dot. It wasn't nearly as hard as it should have been to sneak into the Auror Department and slip a little something in Weasel's afternoon tea. Really, one would think that such a high ranking Auror would know better than to leave his drinks unattended. He watched with barely unrestrained glee as Weasel picked up his tainted drink and proceeded to make his way down to the communal break room. He followed at a respectable distance, an extremely strong notice-me-not charm hiding him from view. As they entered the break room, he immediately went to the far corner of the room and hid himself further in the shadows. He watched as Weasel joked around with a few friends, silently willing him to just drink the damned tea already. Then, _then_ , he finally brought the cup up to his disgusting mouth, about to take his first sip, when it happened.

Bloody Potter. He came rushing into the room, completely unaware of his surroundings, and crashed right into the Weasel. The tea went flying into the air, spraying both wizards (really, as if one could actually consider them wizards) and the floor. There went his spectacular plan and all the time he spent brewing the love potion especially keyed to a certain Gryffindor tart, now laying in a cooling puddle on the break room floor. So enraged was he that he had to force himself not to reach for his wand and cast an Avada at the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Him. He didn't do this, however. Not only because the room was full of possible witnesses (shadows and the charm could only do so much), but because he knew it would destroy the person he was doing this for.

The last thing he wanted was to hurt _her_.

Shooting one last exceptionally disgusted look towards Weasel and Potter, he left the break room and proceeded back to his office, which just so happened to be right next door to hers. He knew that seeing her would help calm his increasing displeasure. The bright smile that lit up her beautiful face when she caught sight of him made all his previous rage instantly disappear. She just had that type of effect on him. As he sat down in her visitor chair and listened to her prattle on about her latest case, he knew that all his efforts were worth it. He would get his witch. He just needed to get Weasel out of the way.

* * *

His face was twisted in rage as he watched Weasel twirl her around and plant a kiss on her lips. Right where the whole Ministry could see them. He didn't understand how she could possibly stand having those disgusting lips anywhere near her. He sneered at the people around him who cheered at the nauseating display. Turning quickly on his heel, he stormed off, unwilling to watch his arch-enemy with the witch he loved. It was time to implement phase two of his plan (since bloody Potter ruined phase one).

Phase two was a lot more complicated than phase one. It required the use of Polyjuice Potion and a few oblivation spells. It also required more sneaking around the Auror Department (seriously, they needed to guard it better). His ire was ever increasing when it took him a week to find a hair from Weasel's head. Once he was able to get his hands on the hair, his plan came together fairly quickly, which allowed his seemingly ever present rage to lift some. He was able to bribe Goyle to take the potion and gave him specific instructions to find the Gryffindor tart and give her a good snog. To make sure it was fool-proof, he gave him a small dose of the love potion from phase one. Once it was over, he would oblivate him.

He couldn't have this coming back to him, after all.

Goyle-Weasel got lucky (probably for the first time in his pathetic existence) and tracked down _Lav-Lav_ within five minutes. Goyle-Weasel engaged her in conversation, and he was grateful one thing that the Weasel and Goyle had in common was a lack of brain cells. About ten minutes later, he finally saw his angel coming their way. He slipped back into the shadows, gave Goyle-Weasel the pre-approved signal, and watched while the scene unfolded. The look on her face almost caused him to break things up and tell her the truth until it morphed from hurt to a stunning rage. Gods, she was beautiful when she was brassed off. He winced as he watched her slap poor Goyle-Weasel right across the face. Bet he wasn't expecting that when he agreed to take the Polyjuice.

One might be wondering where the real Weasel was during all this. Well, at the moment he was taking a nice nap in an out of the way broom closet. When he came to, he would remember nothing of the previous few hours. Of course, Hermione was too smart to fall for that and would not believe his insistence of ignorance.

* * *

Two Years Later

A wide smile brightened his face as he twirled his new wife around the dance floor. She looked gorgeous, as if there was any doubt of that. As he pulled her in close, he took in the rest of the room. His eyes fell on the Weasel, surprised to see him there even though his wife insisted they invite him. He sent a very cocky smirk his way and delighted in the reaction it got. Face red to his ears, cheeks puffed out, Weasel looked ready to explode. He watched Potter rush over to calm Weasel down, but he didn't even care. Let the Weasel be mad; he finally had his witch.

Malfoys always got what they wanted.

Eventually.

* * *

Keeper: Write about an emotion, but you can't use the actual word. Mine was anger.


End file.
